


Collaboration

by standoutinacrowd



Series: I Have Died, So That One Day I Would Be Able To Meet You [2]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series), Carmilla - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, intriguing backstory, mystery ensues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7246309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/standoutinacrowd/pseuds/standoutinacrowd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part Two: In which Carmilla learns about Laura's loss of innocence. And Laura learns about Carmilla's species- for real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Monsters and Fairy Tale Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_There is just something about her. God, what are you doing? You ought to know better._ **

You don’t really grasp the whole situation. There you are standing in front of a dead body, right beside the _River Seine_ with Laura pressed into your side. She is crying heavily and you can’t stop her. With that not being enough, you also have seen bite marks on the corpse and if you are honest that troubles you the most.  
  
Alright, there are a few things you have to assess for yourself first:  
  
You were having a great day. Starting off with the idiotic idea of spending a little more time with the girl that you have long forgotten existed. It was too painful to remember why exactly she should be imprinted into your mind, but then she bursts into your life like the tiny ray of sunshine she is and mellows your undead heart.  
  
Which is a contradiction in itself, because you have an aversion against sunlight. Her light is fulfilling though in the most exhilarating fashion. She has her ways of just crashing your regular existence of withering away. Just like all those years ago.  
  
However there you were showing her _Montmartre_ , and all the other stereotypical Paris-sights, you even had lunch with her in an overpriced, pretentious french cuisine restaurant, you chatted with her about her whole being (she was a little reserved and shy at first, but goodness, can she talk) and made sure to get her the best macarons in the city, because you have always known, how much of a sweet tooth she has (you used to buy candy for her, when she was little, which now seems so odd to you). It was an eternity ago and in the same time it wasn’t, because you should know how long forever feels like. She equals just a few minutes in your timeline, compared to the lifespan of a regular human being.  
  
And those minutes with her are worth everything to you.  
  
**_There is just something about her._**  
  
You wanted to say good bye to her after finishing off the day with a walk by the _Seine_. You even made sure to take a path that would lead you to a central place, where she could check into a hostel and then you would be out of her life again.  
  
That simple.  
  
Instead you are watching a policeman yelling something about _‘recurring animal bite’_ in French into his radio and at the same time soothing Laura, who is crying frantically into the collar of your leather jacket.  
  
She must be a very empathic person, because no one is as affected by this as her. This whole scene has caused passerbys to stop, gaping at the dead body in front of them.  
  
You are feeling odd (and frankly spoken are a little terrified) that you of all people get to experience this. However what makes you more uncomfortable is the fact that the policeman talked about _‘it happening again’_. You weren’t aware of a vampiric plague in Paris.  
  
The more established clans, to which your family counts (your family, as the one you got to know after you were turned) calls vampires that act out or can’t seem to control themselves, a plague.  
  
They attract unwanted attention to your species that is mostly forgotten by humanity.  
  
It is of utter inconvenience and you know that you have to report this incident to your mother, who is currently residing in _Versailles_. She will not be thrilled and you have an idea of who exactly gets to have the pleasure of finding the odd one out and dealing with the problem.  
  
It’s you, because mother entrusts you with those issues. Unlike your brother William, you have a thing with delicacy and discretion.  
  
The reinforcement troops have arrived and they are trying to yield the situation up. Civilians are starting to take photos and you can only scoff.  
  
You are reminded of the mess that goes by the name Laura Hollis, still very much pressed into your side, when she sobs. You tear her away from the scene and start walking with her in another direction.  
  
“Where are we going? We can’t just leave now!”, she protests, but you have other ideas. You take her bag and tug on her hand, signalising her to follow you.  
  
She complies, but still is in wonder as to what it is you are doing, “Where are we going? We have to help!”  
  
“We can’t help. I’m getting you somewhere safe. We are going to my place.”, you tell her and she stops, letting go of your hand. You look back to her and she is studying you from top to toe, before blinking away some remaining tears.  
  
“What is going on?”, it’s as if you have known her forever, because you anticipated the question. Then again, you have known her since she was that little toddler. You somehow want those days back. Those days, in which she was so, so happy and not an orphan.  
  
Those days, in which she didn’t question your doings. She had always been obedient as a child. You think it was because of the whole vampiric aura, but now it is of no use to you anymore. She is grown up and can resist the feeling, you think. Or maybe it’s you, who has gotten weaker, because you don’t use your powers on her.  
  
“Please Laura, not here. I need to get you somewhere safe first.”, you have this pleading voice and you look her deeply in the eyes and you are almost tempted to use your vampiric persuasion skills on her, but decide not to, because she is innocent and you want her to trust you without a misuse of your capabilities.  
  
She starts walking again, and this time it is her, who initiates the hand-holding. For now you feel like a large weight has come off your chest.  
  
 

* * *

  
  
You motion her to take a seat on your two-seater in the living room and look around the place. Relief washes over you, as you realise that there aren’t any discarded blood bags around the apartment. You have left your flat in a good shape, before you had gone out to meet an old friend in Zurich.  
  
You place her bag on the desk that is mostly there as decoration and begin to seek for anything that you could offer to her in your kitchen.  
  
You do have some supplies stored away for situations like these. (Meaning having humans around in your apartment.) There are a few girls that you like to use as human blood bags here and there. Of course you repay them with something that is so much better than any human could give them.  
  
You return to your living room with a glass of water and some cookies for starters. She has already traded her position on the couch for the one in front of your large book collection. Most of the pieces you hoard in the shelf are unique and probably not in a language she speaks, but she is interested nonetheless.  


  
“You sure do read a lot.”, she remarks, when you hand her the glass, and then she thanks you. The cookies find their place on a little table by the book shelf, she isn’t really paying attention to them, which is a miracle in itself. Or a bad sign.  
  
You wipe your hands behind your back and await for something, anything else. She takes in your form, because now there is no oversized leather jacket obscuring her view. Actually now you are only clad in a very see-through black t-shirt, and you don’t know why you can’t help yourself, but smirk, when she does let her eyes rake over your torso.  
  
“So how did you like Paris so far?”, you ask and she scoffs.  
  
“What? Did I not serve you as a good tour guide?”, you tease and just now you feel the shift of air between you two. She is looking at her feet and frowns.  


  
“Can we talk about what we just witnessed by the river?”  
  
You swallow down the lump in your throat. Always the nosey one. Always wanting to know everything. She is a young human and doesn’t understand yet that there are things in the world that you just are better off not knowing.  
  
“What did you want to talk about specifically?”  
  
“For starters the fact that we saw a man that had his jugular vein ripped out?!”, she spits out and you flinch a little.  
  
“I overheard that policeman talking about an animal bite.”  
  
“In the middle of a city?”, she is looking directly at you, very sceptically, actually.  
  
You shrug, “I am just telling you what I overheard.”  
  
“And what do _you_ think?”, she just can’t let it go. Always so curious.  
  
“I think we should leave it to the authorities to deal with the... _Animal problems_. They will have salvaged it in no time.”, you don’t believe it yourself. Even if they did know about the supernatural origin of that attack, they wouldn’t be able to find the perpetrator. You have tried to scent the imbecilic idiot of a vampire, but even you weren’t successful.  
  
“Yeah? Is that why you urged me to come here with you? Why you found it necessary to get me to safety? What is going on, Carmilla?”  
  
The use of your name throws you off. You close your eyes to steady yourself. You haven’t fed in an unhealthy amount of time and this conversation is getting to your head.  
  
“I just wasn’t comfortable with you wandering around with _god-knows-what_ lurking in the streets. Especially not in a city you have never been to.”  
  
You just have this urge to protect her from the things that could hurt her. You have this strong need to save her. You need to remind yourself constantly that all of this is a very bad idea, but you can’t help yourself. Until she leaves Paris again, you will make it your priority to keep her from running into danger like that.  
  
“Why is that so important to you?”  
  
  
**_God, what are you doing?_**  
  
  
“Because I don’t like going to sleep, knowing there is a beautiful girl out there that could be in danger.”, flattery usually works, but she is on a mission.  
  
She has her head hung low now and seems to think about your offered answer.  
  
  
“Do you believe it was an animal bite?”, she asks after a long moment of silence.  
  
You sigh, before you answer her, “I don’t know, what you want me to say.”  
  
“I want you to tell me the truth. I want you to tell me, what you know.”  
  
“I know so much, but I’m not sure if you could handle it.”, what you say is nothing, but the truth.  
  
Her eyes widen for a second, before she shakes her head and makes her way to your couch. She sits herself there, with her arms braced on her thighs, head leaned onto them, breathing out in frustration. She is tired. You hear her heart beating a steady rhythm. It soothes you. It’s so much slower than in her early years. Like clockwork. Sixty-five beats per minute. That’s her regular heart rate.  
  
You take a seat opposite to her on the armchair and wait for her to ask you about your last statement, but she surprises you.  
  
“My father. He was attacked by…”, her hazel eyes boring into your soul, “ _Something_ two years ago. I found him in his study, when coming back from school one afternoon. There was so much blood. I just stood there, in a puddle of my own dad’s blood and I couldn’t help him.”, her expression is so blank. And all you want to do is wrap her up in your arms, but you can’t. You don’t allow yourself, because you feel like you cannot take that from her.  
  
Your stomach twists and there is a shiver running through your body. You now understand, why she was crying so uncontrollably earlier. She has experienced this before. Except back then it was her own parent. The only one she was left with. There is untameable rage in you. How could anyone ever hurt such a beautiful creature, to begin with?  
  
It dawns on you what she probably is intending to say. You look up to be met with her calculating gaze on you. She is contemplating on asking you something, and you have an idea of what she is thinking.  
  
She knows about you. Not _you_ per se, but your kind. She has to, because her interrogation from some minutes ago now makes perfect sense.  
  
“As a child, my mother used to read me bedtime stories about dragons and monsters and all this other stuff. Those stories are called fiction, because how could any of that be real, right? They are ancient myths. Myths and legends that are passed onto from one generation to the next. But as I grew older, I looked into that kind of stuff more closely...", she is playing with her necklace again, and you stare at her hands.  
  
“And?”, your voice is hoarse and you are waiting with trepidation for her to say it.  
  
“Werevolves, witches, valkyries, vampires and ghosts… I was fascinated with those things.”, she chuckles, “I still like reading about them. Everything I ever came across is stored away in my laptop.”, she gestures towards her bag and you wonder for the first time how many sets of clothes she has in that tiny thing, because she told you, she had been on the road for quite a long time. It is an issue for another conversation, you find. She isn’t continuing, so you nudge her with your words.  
  
“Did your research fulfil your hunger for knowledge about those mythical creatures?”  
  
She tilts her head and her gaze falls to the floor, “See, here is the hitch. Mythical creatures never see the light of day. Mythical creatures don’t exist outside of their respective fairy tale stories.”, she pauses to lock eyes with you, “Mythical creatures don’t kill your father. _Usually_.”  
  
You swallow again, she follows the motion of your thyroid (or what once anatomically would have been called that) against your skin on your throat during that process. She seems like she is looking right through you. Right through all the things you are hiding from her. And it aches. It aches so much. You want to be able to tell her.  
  
_I’m a monster, go run and hide. I won’t be good for you. You are a fool._  
  
“Do you believe that it was something supernatural?”, you find yourself asking. You thank all the deities that your voice seems steady, because you are everything but.  
  
“There were two symmetrical bite marks on his neck. Puncture wounds that cannot be from a wolf or whatever else was suspected. See, I researched my way into this and the marks don’t match any animal that could possibly inhabit the nearby forests.”  
  
She still is being relatively vague about her assumptions and you don’t want to push her into saying something she isn’t ready to say out loud. Or you don’t want to hear something that you cannot fathom she knows.  
  
  
“Carmilla, do you?”  
  
“Do I what?”  
  
“Believe in mythical creatures?”  
  
  
Laura, this beautiful young girl is telling you -very subtly- that she knows of all the foul species that house this world. She is telling you that she has been spoilt. She is telling you that her human good-natured belief has been shattered, and you can only listen to her heartbeat increasing, because this is an important moment for her.  
  
She needs someone to understand her, she needs someone to tell her that she is not crazy, even though she has enough conviction of her own, so you give her that. And with giving her that, you take away any last remaining innocent ignorance and doubt from her.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
  


  
  
Laura is staring at you from her place on the couch and you want to go back. You want her innocence back.  
Even though you know that it is something you cannot take back, and you are also aware of the fact that it wasn’t your fault to begin with.  
  
  
She had her father taken away by one of your own.  
  
This is the moment you know for sure that you cannot ever tell her about you.  
  
This is the exact moment you decide that you have to make sure she never meets one of you again.  
  
  
  
“Are you hungry?”, you ask her, because you two haven’t had anything to eat since lunch and if you were talking about yourself, then you would say you haven’t _‘eaten’_ properly since the morning, before you got into that train. Night, not _morning_. You find that **4 am** shouldn’t be called _four in the morning_.  
  
She shakes her head, but you stand up anyway, leaving her in the living room by herself. You feel like you should give her some space to think about things. Maybe you need some space too. After that heavy conversation you two were having mere minutes ago.  
  
  
You get a glass out of your cabinet, before deciding that it would be too obvious. You settle on a _‘I love NYC’_ mug and quickly open your fridge. There is a fairly fresh batch of A+ awaiting you in a silver container. Of course it is not made of silver, because it could kill you, if it gets into your system. Stainless steel is your go to medium.  
  
After you have poured yourself some dinner, you chug it down in one go. You cannot risk letting Laura see you drinking blood, especially not since she knows about your existence.  
  
Laura is still glued to the position you left her in, when you come back. This time though her pale face has recovered and you yourself are much more relaxed and in the mood to answer her questions that she might have.  
  
  
“What do you know about those creatures?”, ah yes, she is starting the game right away.  
  
“I know enough, but you have to be more specific.”  
  
“How long have you known? Or… I mean like… Do you have proof of their existence?”  
  
You shake your head, but not to negate her question, “You didn’t have any proof either, but you were so convinced that they existed. There are some things in this world that we all have to accept. It’s like believing in a divinity.”  
  
“But the concept of god is something created by humanity to spread piety or something.”  
  
You raise an eyebrow at her, because in your 335 years you have learned one thing: _You can never be too sure of anything._  
  
“So what makes you think that supernatural creatures aren’t something fabricated by mankind as well?”  
  
She huffs out in frustration. You don’t mean to frustrate her, but you don’t like double standards. Plus, there has to be a reason, why holy water can burn holes into your flesh. The myth with not being able to look at crucifixes on the other hand… Is a total idiocy. Your favorite movie -yes, once in a while you do watch them in the theatre- is _The Exorcist_.  
  
“So you just believe in that stuff without any evidence?”  
  
_If only she knew._  
  
Her eyes are big in wonder again and you know that look too well by now. Your head is already coming up with a perfectly woven lie and you hate telling every bit of it.  
  
“Let’s just say, I do have my sources.” You find that this is as close as she can get to the truth.  
  
“Did you meet any of them? And if you have, can I meet them too?”, she immediately asks and you look at her wide-eyed and in alarm.  
  
“Laura, I can assure you that you don’t want to get in the middle of all of that. I hope you don’t tell every stranger you meet about this. It’s good to be oblivious at times. Those creatures don’t like humans knowing about them- Actually, I do really hope that you don’t chat up strangers at all! You never know what could be lingering inside of your neighbour.” You are making a joke out of it now, because yes, you are very much referring to yourself. Your _‘younger’_ self, when she was the little girl next door.  
  
She raises her eyebrows at you and you sense, what she is going to say to you next, “Funny of _you_ to say that. You are the one to take strangers home with you. I mean, what if _I_ turned out to be a monster, hmn?”  
  
There she said it. _Monster._  
  
“I knew you weren’t one.” This is dangerous territory and you know it. You feel like coming up with an excuse, “Like I said, I do know some things about monsters. You are too cute to be one.” You want to punch yourself for the last slip-up.  
  
“Wait… So… How many different kinds are there out there? How do you differentiate between them?”  
  
You shrug, because you really don’t know, “I am only really familiar with lycanthropes and vampires.”  
  
“What is a lycanthing?”  
  
“I guess you know them under the term _werewolf_.”, you shudder. It’s not in your vampiric nature to hate them (like it’s often painted out to be in modern literature). This is something personal. It has to do with you specifically. You are a feline after all, and it is not natural for you to like dogs.  
  
“So what about those leucotropes?” She is cute, when she tries it.  
  
“Lycanthropes.”, you correct her and then just decide to stick to the usual term, “Werewolves are human-like creatures that can turn into wolves, if you didn’t know already.”  
  
“Well yeah of course I know the key factors!”, she rolls her eyes and you fall for all of her traits so easily. But you are not allowed. Mother would like her as a newbie, you think to yourself. She is very alluring. However you would never in a million years want Laura to cross paths with your mother.  
  
“What did you want to know about then?”  
  
“Like… Since when do they exist? Are there any ways to know, if someone is a werewolf? How about their social construct? Do they travel in packs like real wolves?”  
  
“Well, I don’t know how far back they go, but I guess they have developed as a subspecies to the homo sapiens. Maybe there was magic involved. I don’t know, to be honest. I don’t know about any specific history. You wouldn’t be able to tell the difference of a human to a werewolf in their human shape. However you would be able to differentiate between a werewolf in its animalistic shape and a wolf by just looking at them, but I suggest you to run, if you ever find yourself in that situation. As for your third question: They do come in packs. Their social organisation is similar to wolves that are held captive by humans. There is usually an alpha couple -the leading ones and then there are all the other wolves -mostly their children- below them, the betas. Every wolf below the alphas has to be obedient to their leaders. When a beta finds a partner, the pair leaves the pack and establishes their own family, leading as the new alphas. Omega usually is another term for the youngest children of an alpha couple. Contrary to popular belief they are highly valued by the alphas. They are the youngest members of the pack after all, and need extra protection.”  
  
Laura is taking in all the information you provide her with. Her forehead creases and she is so beautiful, sitting there and listening to you talking about mythological creatures, as if it is the most usual thing in the world.  
  
“So like… Magic is a thing? Are witches a thing?”  
  
You suppress your need to smirk at her for all her questions, “Yes. I am sure you’ve met some of them in your daily life at some point without noticing.”  
  
“And what about vampires? You said they existed too… How do they fare with each other?”  
  
_Ah. Your specialty. And your species._  
  
“See, vampires… That is a whole other world. Vampires have many abilities, which makes them almost the most dangerous of them all. They can do magic, many can shift into animals and as for their organisation: They do have more defined hierarchic structures. They are not the usual, plain bloodsuckers, as they are depicted as, you know?”  
  
She interjects you right there, “Wait, so can they change into _any_ animal?”, a nosey little one.  
  
“Yes, as far as I know.”  
  
“So what is a vampire turning into a wolf? Does that happen? Does that make them a _werevampire_?”, she giggles at her own joke (which actually is a bad one, because it would be a _vampwolf -_ if anything _-_ , but you let her have that one), “But seriously though, does that make them werewolves?”  
  
“No. Werewolves have to turn on every full moon. That’s their curse. A vampire that can turn into a wolf doesn’t necessarily have to turn.”  
  
_Vampires are graced with a different curse_ , you think to yourself.  
  
“So what about vampires? How are they organised?”  
  
“There are different families and depending on how old the respective family is, there is a gain of certain powers and it all comes with special territorial rights. There doesn’t have to be an alpha couple -I mean, it is not common to use those terms with vampires at all. It works differently. Each clan has its own rules, of which I know almost nothing of. The big difference is that the vampiric gene cannot be passed onto the next generation. Vampires are infertile. Immortality has its price.”  
  
“But on the other hand you get to be immortal. I think that’s a pretty cool thing, if you ask me.”  
  
You catch her eyes that are glistening. You pay attention to her heart pumping blood through her whole system.  
You can hear her lungs, filling with air, the bloodstream working its way through her alveoli.  
You want all of that too, and you don’t want to be able to hear all of that.  
  
_No. Not a pretty cool thing._  
  
“I suppose.”  
  
“So how do vampires procreate?”  
  
“They don’t.”, you stare into her eyes for some seconds, “Humans that have shown themselves worthy enough get to decide for themselves, if they want to be gifted with immortality.”  
  
At least that’s what you heard from a vampire associate that is member of a different clan to yours. You weren’t that lucky. Although you don’t know, what your eighteen-year-old self would have chosen back then, if you were given the right to veto. You somehow want Laura to get a different insight into your species. A more human-conform one.  


  
“How do you know all of this?”, she suddenly asks you and you want to cry. You want to cry, because she is asking you without knowing anything and you have to lie to her every second from now on, because she just cannot know the truth. _Ever._  
  
“I might have spent some dull years in high school. I read my way into this with ancient transcripts in my free time.”  
  
She looks at your book shelf, “Did you read all of those too?”  
  
You nod at her, an uneasiness forming in your gut. “Have you ever heard of _The Epic of Gilgamesh_?” You throw that in, because you want to brighten the mood. Although talking about _Ištar_ doesn’t really sound that much of a good idea anymore.  
  
“No.”, she answers curtly and you understand. You can’t really expect this young girl to know something that dates back to the eighteenth century before Christ.  
  
  
“How did you come into contact with all of this?”, she asks you for what you think is the umpteenth time.  
  
“As I already said, I have odd hobbies.”, you are being vague again and she seems to buy it. You want to throw up, because she is believing you. She is so gullible, which makes it more important for you to try and shelter her from all the bad that is out there. You don’t want anyone ever taking advantage of that ever.  
  
  
“ _Odd hobbies_ aside… It’s kinda getting late and I should maybe…?”, she trails off and points to your door. She wants to leave. Is she being serious now?  
  
“Absolutely not. You aren’t leaving this place. Not in the dark.”, you sound like that sparkly twerp in that movie -that you absolutely _didn’t_ watch of course- and you hate yourself for it, but you have to hold her up from lurking around in the shadows.  
  
You still don’t know who is out there on a killing spree and you certainly don’t want Laura to endanger herself. She has been precious to you. Now in a different way than then, but of course you beg all of yourself not to indulge into this, because it is sort of distasteful.  
  
**_You ought to know better._**  
  
  
Her eyes widen for a moment, “Are you commanding me to stay?”  
  
“I am _asking_. I don’t want to worry about you. And now that you know what could happen, if you were out there-”  
  
“Paris has like two million inhabitants.”, is her argument and you have to admit that she is right.  
  
There is only a tiny chance that she might end up as a victim of the unknown killer, but you don’t want to risk it. You can’t. On that night five years ago you silently promised your dying friend that you would protect her daughter and that’s what you are doing. Even though you should have walked away the very first moment you knew of her identity.  
  
“I know, you don’t grasp the full danger behind what we saw today yet, but trust me, if there is a vampire out there, you don’t want to be out, roaming around the city.”  
  
“Okay.”, her voice is only above a whisper and you can’t really believe that she really just said yes, but you take it. You sigh out of relief and she yawns. It is not even 11 pm, but you realise that she has had a long day and you tell her exactly that. She is a little more acquiescent this time and even says yes to you offering your bedroom.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Long after Laura has gone to bed you finally decide to deal with your little vampire problem. You decide to write a letter to maman, telling her of the dead body you came across earlier in the day. Of course you make sure to leave out the details of why exactly you were at the _Seine_ to begin with.  
  
Mother wasn’t exactly supportive of your last relationship with a human and you did learn your lesson from it. She made you learn it the hard way. However now you keep any interactions you have with humans off her radar.  
  
You are into your last sentence, when you sense the presence of another person in the room.  
  
Everything in you tenses, and you abruptly stop, before signing off the letter...


	2. Of Knowledge and Nescience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [...]
> 
> “ _Naïve, provincial girl_ …”
> 
> “How do you know that I’m provincial?”, you raise an eyebrow at her. You know the _how_.
> 
> “ _Entirely too tightly wound_ …”
> 
> “ **I’m not**.”, you half turn to her and glare.
> 
> She is smirking and there is something about her that makes your bones ache and your heart clench, but not because you are scared of her. And that thought scares you.
> 
> “ _Such a cliché_.”
> 
> [...]

You wake up in discomfort.  
  
After a few seconds you realize that you have had a nightmare. You saw your fathers dead body in front of you again. You keep needing to remind yourself that all of that has happened, but now you've moved on. You are okay.  
  
Another few minutes of you breathing in and out go by, and you remember that you are in Paris. You are in Paris in a stranger’s bedroom. Granted, it was a beautiful stranger, but who does that kind of things?  
  
Carmilla was adamant about giving you her bedroom, while she is occupying her living room/study and frankly spoken you hadn’t put up much of a fight, because you were very tired. You see light seeping in from underneath the door and then check your cell phone that you had plugged to her charger.  
  
It is very late and you wonder, why she’s still awake. You don't know what to expect, when you open the bedroom door, but you certainly don't anticipate her sitting on the couch and what it seemed like writing. You watch her for a moment, before her movements stop. You only see her backside that tenses up.  
  
  
“What are you doing up so late?”, she asks you and you smile, even though she can't see it.  
  
“I could ask you the same thing.”, you round the couch and see, how she is quickly signing the letter with **M.K.** Her hands fly over the paper very swiftly, her cursive handwriting leaving flawless letters behind.  
  
You wonder why she isn’t signing it off with her own name, but then decide that this woman is still a stranger, and that you probably would sound like a weird creeper again, if you dared to ask. It’s the same with her last name. You don’t want to ask her, because really it is not important, but you still would like to know. Maybe you can ask her after establishing a semi-friendship or whatever.  
  
Her slender fingers glide over the paper in an attempt to fold it neatly and the noise is the only sound that hits your ears, as she is taking your appearance in.  
  
You are pretty sure you look like a freaking mess, with your hair all disheveled and your eyes all sleepy. (In your flannel pj’s by the way.)  
  
“I usually go to sleep very late.”, she offers and stands up to get an envelope from the desk, to put her letter in. After she does that, she gets the wax stick she has prepared and holds it into the fire she has created with a single candle. You have never seen anyone do that before. Who seals off their letters like that in this age?  
  
You stand close by and observe her, she has this slight smirk on her face and you wonder how someone so gorgeous was all by herself.  
  
She carefully holds the wax in a way that only a few drops fall onto their designated space and then presses the ring on her right middle finger into it.  
  
There appears an emblem of some sort.  
  
You briefly wonder, if Carmilla is an aristocrat. It all would make sense. Her not giving you her last name, having ominous sources of money with only eighteen (you haven’t failed to notice that she lives in a very nice apartment, in a very central place), then the thing with the emblem…  
  
Another question pops up in your mind.  
  
  
“What do you do?”  
  
She rubs off the remnants of wax on her ring delicately. You can only observe all her movements with amazement. She is graceful in all the things she does. Being of high nobility would fit her so well.  
  
“What did you mean?”, her voice is a little lower than before and you have goosebumps all over your body from the tone.  
  
“You said you were eighteen. How do you live in an apartment like this by yourself? I mean… You gotta do _something_?”  
  
She pauses, putting the letter on the desk to dry off and finally she regards you with eye-contact.  
  
“I have family that supports me.”  
  
You can't help, but smile, because yes, you were pretty much correct. This fits into the identity you’ve spun out for her.  
  
“Yeah? Does your family live in France too?”  
  
She gives you a half nod, “Mother does, as does my brother. I didn't like sharing my accommodations with a clutch of his imbecilic friends that lurk around all the time. And mother... Well, she is another story, for another lifetime, I suppose. However those were my reasons to move into the city of love.”, the way she talks, the way she holds herself, it all makes sense to you.  
  
She was probably brought up to be so proper and gallant, you think. It makes you swoon. You feel like watching Taylor Swift’s music video for _‘Love Story’_ all over again. Only this time you are a leading part in it, in your own life.  
  
Her whole posture, her speech. She seems so sophisticated. You have never met an eighteen-year-old that held themselves like she does. It’s refreshing and you have this insufferable need to get to know her better. You are kind of glad that she took you home with her, or that she had spoken to you in the first place, when you were lost at that train station.  
  
It doesn't go by you unnoticed that she doesn't mention her father, but you are tactful enough not to ask anything about him. You know, you hate it, when people ask you questions about your parents. You know, you hated it, when Carmilla asked you.  
  
You study her features for as long as she lets you, because you both kind of lose yourselves in each other. Her dark eyes, expressive to the point that you cannot look away, when she does that certain thing with them (meaning keeping eye-contact). She is so calculating, so reserved.  
  
There is something holding her back. Like there is a barrier between you two. Something unsaid and you can’t help, but wonder what it is. Ever since you met her, she has been hiding something from you. You can feel this energy around her. As if she knows something. It’s like she’s been two steps ahead of you all this time. And you know that it's stupid of you to think that, because she is still pretty much a stranger to you and you don’t know her at all, but you have this feeling. You somehow don’t dare to ask though. It is not usual of you to hold back, but it just doesn’t come through your lips.  
  
  
“What's going on in that pretty head of yours? Why aren't you sleeping?”, and yes, then she does _this_. She flirts with you ever so subtly, and then retracts her whole game. As if she likes to play with you. What bugs you is the fact that you want her to take back the steps, you want her to walk with you, instead of way ahead of you.  
  
You feel like a moth to her light. And it is such a bad comparison, because she seems to identify herself with the shadow.  
  
“I'm just still thinking about what we talked about, before I went to bed. It has brought some memories back.”, you take the pack of cookies she has laid out for you earlier and start munching on one. She smirks at you and tells you to sit on the couch. You do (weirdly you let her command you without much protest) and are surprised that she positions herself beside you and faces you, as if she is anticipating you to talk about it for a while. She is taking time for you and this thought excites you.  
  
“I had a dream. A nightmare actually. About my father.”, you say in-between taking a bite off the chocolate chip cookie. Your favorite.  
  
“Does it still haunt you?”, she is raising an eyebrow at you -not in a ribbing way though, just what you label as curious- and you blush a little, because it makes her so beautiful and hot at the same time. You want to smack yourself for objectifying her like that, but then again, she is the one who calls you all those stupid nicknames.  
  
“Not as much, as it used to, but I think I can be excused. The thing we had to witness today kinda brought it all to surface.”  
  
She wets her lips with her tongue and you really have to use up all of your willpower to keep yourself from staring too obviously.  
  
“I’m very sorry that you had to see that.”, is her only response and you kind of had hoped for more.  
  
“It’s not your fault… I just… I was thinking about what you said about the body- being attacked by a vampire. You seemed so sure of it. Why didn’t you think it could have been something else? Like a werewolf or something?”  
  
“See, I don't know, how much you're willing to go down this road, cupcake. Learning about these things isn't like a fun lesson in zoology.”  
  
“So wait, do they count to animals?”, you have learned that Carmilla has a lot of knowledge about the creatures that you have been researching about. It is so refreshing to finally be able to talk about all of that.  
  
She lets out an exasperated sigh, “They are counted to monsters.”, her expression is austere.  
  
“Are all of them bad?”  
  
There is a flicker of something in her eyes, before she quirks up an eyebrow at you again, “Why? Are you planning on making new friends?”  
  
“I need to know. I need to know, because I need consolation that this doesn't happen all the time. I need consolation that this man we saw today and my dad were exceptional. I need to know that there is hope that we can all co-exist without harming each other. No matter if ghost or werewolf or whatever.”  
  
“Ghosts can't harm you physically, as far as I know. Werewolves on the other hand...”, she is making a face of disgust, “But they only lose control on full moons and that body that was found today didn’t seem like it was there for more than a week.”  
  
“So you are saying, you’re absolutely sure that it’s a…”, you already heard it from her, but you want her to say it again.  
  
“ _Vampire_. I am still very certain that it was the doing of a vampire.”  
  
**“Vampire.”** , you repeat. She nods and checks the clock that is hanging above your head in the back of the room.  
  
Vampires have always been by far the most interesting creatures to you. You have a long list of interesting pieces on the portrayal of those undead creatures. You are sure half of them at least are wrong. At least Carmilla did explain some things earlier. You want to know more though.  
  
Before she can say something, you quickly ask her a question that seems to throw her off, “I have some pictures of my dad- Well the ones the police are supposed to have on the case- Do you- I mean, do you think you could tell by the bite marks on his neck if it was a vampire for sure?”  
  
Her brow furrows, and she closes her eyes for a beat, “How did you get those pictures?”  
  
You feel embarrassed about the _how_ , but you figure it is the best to tell the truth, “I might have flirted with the officer a bit? While my friend snuck in from the back and kinda… Stole them?”  
  
She shakes her head and sighs, “I’m just going to ignore what you said there. You shouldn’t carry those pictures around with you.”  
  
“Oh no, I don’t have them on me. My friend LaF, who goes to university in Austria has them. I kind of was supposed to move in with them, because I was toying with the idea of getting enrolled there too, but it kinda got all twisted around, but they have all of my stuff at their apartment.”  
  
“So _that’s_ why you travel around with only that tiny bag of yours.”  
  
You are actually impressed that she made that connection so quickly, “Exactly. I stop by at their place to do laundry and stuff. Austria is pretty central. I can get almost anywhere from there. It would have been really hard otherwise.”  
  
“Well, if you can get ahold of these pictures, I can take a look at them for you.”, she offers.  
  
“Yeah, I’ll ask LaF to send me pictures of the pictures in the morning.” Pictures of the pictures sounds so weird.  
  
“You should really go to bed.", she is retreating again, but at least this time she gave you more than satisfying answers.  
  
“Will you be sleeping too?”  
  
“Of course. And now, off from my couch.”, she orders and you giggle in response. She is very bossy and that’s kind of what you like about her. Weird.  
  
You stand up and what happens next is something you completely blame on the lack of sleep, because you lean down and hug her. She tenses up at first, but then places her hands gingerly on your back and you even think she is breathing you in (but that could also be your weird, creepy imagination). Although you wouldn’t find it _that_ creepy if she did, because you are doing the same to her. Her scent is inebriating.  
  
“Thanks for today.”, you straighten up again, to look her in the eyes, “We don't even know each other and you were there for me, even if you didn't have to. If you weren't in that train, who knows? Maybe I would have been the dead body by the Seine?”  
  
She looks at you with a frown, “Don't even joke about that.”  
  
You just give her a last smile and make your way towards her bedroom.

 

* * *

  
When you wake up the second time in her apartment, you don't waste a second. You scramble up and go into the living room to find all the black curtains drawn. The room is dark and you tiptoe around to get to your duffel bag that contains your toothbrush and your laptop.  
  
Carmilla is lying on her back, with no indication of being awake (or alive in that matter, because she doesn't even seem to breathe). You shake your head at yourself. You really are becoming a creep.  
  
After brushing your teeth and snooping around a little in the cabinet of Carmilla's bathroom (you wanted to make sure, she was no lunatic and severely hoped to not finding anything weird like psychotropic drugs), you return to your laptop resting on the bed.  
  
What is a little off to you is the fact that there weren’t any kind of drugs to be found. Not even Aspirin or cough syrup. Instead you found dental floss and other various oral hygiene products. It is a violation of privacy, but you brush that fact aside, because she still is very much a stranger to you. (A very nice one, but still.)  
  
After sending LaF an email about the photos of your dead dad (Carmilla was nice enough to give you her wifi password the night before), you feel your stomach grumbling and decide to surprise Carmilla with a nice breakfast (hoping she has something in her fridge to produce such) to thank her for her hospitality and generosity -even though she didn't really leave you a choice there.  
  
Her kitchen astounds you. It's finish is black and the counter tops are held in a dark marble-esque material. You let your fingers glide over a large space and decide to look into the fridge.  
  
You are very much disappointed at your first glance, because there is almost nothing in it. She has a few closed silver containers that catch your eyes though, but just as you're about to open one of them (the one in your hand is pretty heavy and you can tell it’s content is something liquid), Carmilla's voice startles you from behind.  
  
“What are you doing?”, there is a hint of panic in her voice and you can't blame her, because you wouldn't like a stranger going through your stuff either (you feel bad for having violated her privacy once again).  
  
You turn around, container still secured in a grip and respond, “I wanted to be nice and make breakfast for us.”  
  
Her stoic expression is replaced with a genuine smile, and she takes away the heavy thing from your hands and stores it back into the fridge.  
  
Just then you realize that she still looks flawless and get frustrated, because it isn’t fair. She just woke up! Plus she hasn’t even slept that much and does not seem a bit tired, nor does her face show any sign of weariness.  
  
“You won't find anything in here, buttercup.”, she drawls and her voice is so undeniably sexy.  
  
“What was that anyway?”, you point to her now closed fridge.  
  
She shakes her head, “It was just... Leftover food from the Chinese restaurant. You wouldn't wanna open that. It's probably grown a fungus or something.”  
  
You raise your eyebrows at her now, "Aren't you supposed to clean that out then?”, because duh, she shouldn't want to end up getting sick. Those spores can be cancer triggering or something. You don't remember the article in the health magazine anymore.  
  
“Later.”, she tugs you away by your hand and you feel like a teenager being touched by your crush. Okay, you _still are a_ teenager. You are only seventeen.  
  
“I am very hungry though.”, you pout and her expression softens into something you would call adoration (not that she likes you like that or anything, you are just observing).  
  
“Just give me a moment, will you?”  
  
You nod and take a seat on the couch that she has slept in just a few minutes ago and await for her to do something.  
  
She picks up her phone and starts talking in french again. Her eyes never leave yours and you kind of feel special in that moment.  
  
  
  
“My dear friend will be here shortly. I ordered him to bring in Paris' most delicious baked goods. You won't be disappointed, trust me.”, she winks.  
  
“I do.”, is your curt reply and you come to realize that you really fully do, because you are still here, at her place, staying put, just because she said so.  
  


* * *

  
You are working on something for your blog, while sitting on Carmilla's desk, when that friend emerges. _Finally_ , you think to yourself.  
  
They exchange pleasantries or whatever in French by the door and then you hear them coming into the living room and turn around.  
  
The man looks far too old to be Carmilla's friend. He is probably in his early thirties, of slight build and wears a scrutinizing mien.  
  
He is clearly talking about you, because he is looking at you directly, and then he nudges Carmilla and she rolls her eyes. You wanna be able to understand French now.  
  
  
“Elle s'apelle Laura.”, she probably is introducing you to him. You stand up and move towards them. Carmilla looks a little uncomfortable, but you can't really assess why.  
  
“You are the young girl from Amérique, yes?”, his accent is just what you were expecting and you give him a polite smile.  
  
“That would be me.”, although him calling you a girl bugs you to the extreme.  
  
He takes ahold of your hand and creepily places a kiss on the back of it. _Ugh_.  
  
“Pleasure to meet you. Mathéo.”, he points towards himself and then his gaze shifts to Carmilla and he is talking in French again.  
  
His laugh is obnoxiously loud and Carmilla seems to grow more uncomfortable by every passing minute he decides to be around. She then approaches the desk and takes the letter that is still resting there and hands it over.  
  
Mathéo safely puts it away in the breast pocket of his trench coat and says some last words to Carmilla.  
  
Before he leaves he takes a deep breath and winks at you. This interaction -you find- was very, very strange.  
  
“I'm sorry if he made you feel uncomfortable. It's his specialty.”, Carmilla apologizes to you and you just shrug.  
  
“It doesn't matter, as long as he has brought good food.”, you give her a goofy smile and yeah it elicits one from her too.  
  


* * *

  
“So, I was wondering.”, you fixate Carmilla, who is typing away in her phone.  
  
“Wondering?”  
  
“About that letter.”  
  
Her head snaps up and she has her eyebrows up in surprise.  
  
“What about it?”, she asks, and she is not looking at you anymore, while talking.  
  
“Why do you still write those?”, you want to ease into the topic. Maybe, you think, just maybe she will finally tell you a little bit more about herself. For instance her last name.  
  
“Some things don't resonate well in a text message.”, she is chuckling and yeah, also that is a thing you find beautiful about her. She catches you staring at her mouth and you quickly avert your eyes. You don't even have to look in her direction to know that she is smirking.  
  
  
  
You decide that you love LaFontaine for their perfect timing, when your phone rings and you see that they want to video chat with you. You excuse yourself to Carmilla’s bedroom.  
  
You draw in a sharp breath, and hit the _‘Accept’_ button, after connecting your phone with headphones.  
  
  
“Hey, did you get my email?”, you greet your friend.  
  
“Duh, L. That’s why I’m callin’ ya. Thought it’d be much easier, if you actually did help me search via the interwebs.”  
  
“That’s actually pretty clever of you.”  
  
“Are you sure you want to dig that up? And also, what for?”  
  
“That’s something I’ll tell you later, and yes. I need some closure and I think I can get that here in Paris.”, they just look at you suspiciously, but then relent.  
  
You tell them a little bit about Paris and what you have seen so far, not really mentioning what you experienced the day before or who with. The first thing they notice is that your ‘hotel room’ looks very nice. You then tell them that you are at someone’s place and you just know by the looks your friend throws you that they are thinking in the wrong direction, but you kind of don’t care to correct them.  
  
LaFontaine quickly finds the box you had left in their storage room. It is filled with old photos and various items that you have kept for their nostalgic value. LaF comes across some baby pictures of you and you want to steer them in the right direction, telling them that that’s so not important right now, but then they tell you how cute you were and you both get distracted a bit.  
  
  
“Who’s that? Is that your aunt Pauline?”, LaF asks and turns the picture around for you to see it.  
  
The moment you do, your heart nearly stops beating.  
  
“Oh, it says _‘Laura and Mircalla, 2000’_. My bad.”  
  
“This isn’t my aunt.”, is the only thing you can say, although you know that they already know it, based on the fact that they never have heard you mention that name.  
  
“Hot baby sitter or something?”, they laugh and you swallow down thickly.  
  
“LaF, I need you to send me that pic.”  
  
“Shit, sorry. I’m on it!”  
  
“No, I meant the one you have in your hand.”  
  
LaFontaine frowns at you for a second, before complying. You hang up, telling them that they should send you the files and pictures on your father, when they have found them in that box and wait for the picture to load in your text messaging app.  
  
There is a pen on Carmilla’s bedside table and you find a piece of paper in the drawer and immediately start writing out the name.  
  
_M - I - R - C - A - L - L - A_  
  
You exchange the ‘MI’ with ‘CA’ in your head and there you have it.  
  
**CARMILLA**  
  
Her name is a freaking anagram.  
  
Your phone starts buzzing and you rush to open the app. Now you see the picture of her in higher definition and if there was any remaining doubt in you, it sure has faded by now. It is Carmilla. In a loose Guns N’ Roses tee having you as a two-year-old on her lap and the faintest of smirks decorating her lips. She isn’t looking at the camera, in fact your mother probably did take it without her knowing.  
  
This could only mean one thing.  
  
_She can’t be a…_  
  
  
  
You come back to the living room, where Carmilla is looking out of the window.  
  
You read that vampires have an aversion against sunlight. This- She can’t be out in the sun and you’ve spent the previous day outside with her.  
  
There has to be a better explanation for that.  
  
“I think I am going to take a shower.”, Carmilla announces, without even looking at you, “But after that you can show me the pictures of your father. I suppose you got them?”  
  
“Yeah, LaF’s gonna send them over in a bit. Take your time.”  
  
She passes you and you instinctively get out of her way, although it is not necessary. She gives you a weird look, before getting into her bedroom and to the adjoined bathroom.  
  
You stand there for what you think is an eternity, until you hear the shower going off.  
  
The first thing you do is searching up _‘vampire’_ in your phone and read along the lists of how to determine if someone is one. You know that most of that is total bullshit, but you just hope for something.  
  
The wikipedia article begins with _‘A vampire is a being from folklore who subsists by feeding on the life essence (generally in the form of blood) of the living.’._ You stop reading and immediately make your way to Carmilla’s kitchen.  
  
You take a deep breath before opening her fridge and getting out the silver container you saw in it some hours ago. Your hands are trembling, when you finally open the lid and what you see in it takes your whole breath away all at once.  
  
It’s undoubtedly blood.  
  
After putting it away to it’s designated place, you glance around. You open a few drawers and cupboards. A regular human being wouldn’t get far with the things she has in them.  
  
You seat yourself on her couch and try to come up with a better excuse for the things you learned in the past half an hour. It doesn’t make sense. Except it does. And so much more.  
  
Carmilla _is_ a vampire.  
  
What you don’t understand is the fact that you’re not messily dead yet.  
  
However that’s not even something that is bothering you. What worries you the most is the fact that she has known you as a child. She has seen you as a kid. You wonder, why she has been lying to you this whole time, because obviously she knows who you are. You have introduced yourself to her. Your last name is your mother’s maiden name, who she has known for three years. There is no way in hell or Hogwarts that she has no clue who you are.  
  
Has she been onto you all your life? Was she the one, who killed your father? What if she was responsible for the dead body by the river? Your mind is overflown with too much _what ifs_ , when the door to the bedroom squeaks open and you bounce up a bit.  
  
Everything’s gotten you on edge.  
  
  
“You’re jumpy.”, she remarks and quirks up an eyebrow at you. Her bangs are obstructing your view at one of her eyes, because they seem to be longer, when wet. She looks beautiful that way and holy crap sticks you cannot compromise yourself to _Bella Swan_ in this scenario.  
  
“Yeah well I’ve uh- Yesterday’s dead body incident’s still haunting me a little.”, you offer with a fake _‘hehe’_ and she seats herself on the armchair, crossing her legs and sitting up straight.  
  
Now everything makes sense. All the little things you have noticed until now make absolute sense.  
  
She speaks like someone that hopped on over from another century.  
She’s been eighteen for fifteen years now, which is one of the ultimate evidences here.  
She is unnaturally pale -although your cousin Marcus is too, so that’s not that much of a deal-maker.  
  
“I told you, you would be safe here.”, she picks at the strings on her ripped jeans and you watch that tiny action, “No reason for all of this… _Twitchiness_.”  
  
Your head snaps up and you gesture with your hands, “There is no twitching. There is an absence of twitching.”  
  
She is frowning, “Clearly.”, it’s dripping with sarcasm.  
  
  
“So… Uh… What’s the plan? I mean, do we hole up in here forever? I have a travel blog to write.”  
  
“I’ve shown you pretty much every important sight there is to see around here. Don’t you have enough material?”  
  
You can’t argue with her on that one. Carmilla proved to be a real good tour guide (go figure, she probably has been around, when the _Eiffel Tower_ was built or the _Sacré-Cœur Basilica_ in that case too).  
  
“Uh-huh… I’d like to take a shower now too!”  
  
“I figured. I lay out towels for you. You can use whatever you want.”, she tells you and smiles gently.  
  
That smile though. How can she be a vampire with that smile?  
  


* * *

  
You come back to the living room to find Carmilla sitting by her desk and going through a book, like she is on a mission. She doesn’t look up to meet your eyes, when she tells you that she’s been grocery shopping.  
  
Go figure, she had nothing in her cupboards.  
  
You briefly wonder what her agenda is. If she were to kill you, then why aren’t you messily dead already? She is taking care of you. She told you you were safe in her apartment.  
  
It just all doesn’t make sense.  
  
  
“Have you been listening to what I said?”, she brings you out of your thoughts.  
  
“Uh, no what?”  
  
“I asked if you wanted to cook lunch with me.”  
  
“Yes. Sure.”  
  
  
Do vampires even know how to cook?  
  
  
  
You watch her throughout your whole bonding session in the kitchen. She has probably bought everything she could find in that small market right beside her apartment complex.  
  
When you are about to start prepping for your meal, you see garlic cloves sitting on the counter.  
  
  
“Do you like garlic?”, okay yes, you are being very subtle now.  
  
“I do enjoy it. Although not when I’m kissing beautiful ladies.”, she winks at you and you suppose your facial expression isn’t a neutral one, so she frowns, “That wasn’t me trying to proposition you, cupcake.”  
  
“Right. Why would you even hit on me?”, you ask out loud. _Yeah, why, when you could just eat me_ , you think.  
  
“Do you really not know, why anyone would try to flatter you? Flirt with you? Make romantic advances towards you?”  
  
You give her an unimpressed look, “No. Tell me. Obviously I am missing something there?”  
  
She stops picking at the vegetable she is holding in her hand -a kind you have never seen, _pff Europeans_ \- and turns towards you, while you are busy cutting up the onion you have been working on for the last few minutes.  
  
  
“Are you usually a girl that plays hard to get?”  
  
You snort, and turn your gaze back to the onions in front of you. You have a knife in your hands and there are a few wicked ideas that form in your mind. You could just-  
  
“ _Naïve, provincial girl_ …”  
  
“How do you know that I’m provincial?”, you raise an eyebrow at her. You know the _how_.  
  
“ _Entirely too tightly wound_ …”  
  
“ **I’m not**.”, you half turn to her and glare.  
  
She is smirking and there is something about her that makes your bones ache and your heart clench, but not because you are scared of her. And that thought scares you.  
  
“ _Such a cliché_.”, she shakes her head and watches the floor for several seconds.  
  
In those seconds you seem to build up some confidence, because one moment she smiles and the other she is scowling and hissing in pain.  
  
You just drove the knife you are holding through her outstretched palm. Your eyes widen. You did it with a purpose, but now all you feel is guilt, because she is bleeding and she did obviously feel it.  
  
_Can vampires do that?_  
  
“Ohmigod, I’m so sorry!!!”, you reach for a cloth nearby and hold it to her hand. It immediately soaks up the blood (you did cut deep), and she looks down at you in panic. (Who wouldn’t, if a lunatic just stabs you?)  
  
“It’s okay, it’s nothing.”, she tries to draw back her hand, but you shake your head and put the cloth away to assess your damage.  
  
  
When you do, there really is _nothing_.  
  
As if the last few seconds hadn’t just happened.  
  
You both lock eyes and what you see in her face is pure horror.  
  
  
_Okay. So super healing is a thing._  
  
  
You take a deep breath and then look at the cloth in your right hand, hers is still secured in a grip in your left. There are blood stains on the fabric, but her skin is flawless, as if you haven’t just tried to make sashimi out of her.  
  
The hand that you’ve been holding falls back against her body as you let go and you look at the knife that is now resting on the counter. You rinse it off under running water and then decide that the dishwasher should go over it. You don’t want to be cutting vegetable with a bloody knife.  
  
Carmilla’s whole body is tensed and she is awaiting for you to say something, which you eventually do.  
  
“Look who’s tightly wound now.”  
  
She is silent. You feel her dark eyes scanning your face, but you are surprised at yourself that you can be so calm about this. For once you are the unreadable one. Your poker face game is on point.  
  
“What? Cat got your tongue?”, you look at her.  
  
  
“ **You know.** ”, she concludes, her forehead creasing.  
  
There is a dark chuckle leaving your lips, “No, I actually _don’t_ , it seems.”  
  
“You…”, she eyes the knife for a second, “You did this with purpose. I could have been hurt!”  
  
“It’s a good thing then that I was right about you, isn’t it?”, you challenge her and she is honest to god flustered.  
  
“Right about what? Listen, whatever you think you know about me… I can assure you that you don’t-”

  
“That I don’t what, **Mircalla**?”

  
Okay, you win the prize for shocking a vampire. Twice.


	3. Of Aristocrats and Vampires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [...]
> 
> “I was born Mircalla, daughter of the Count Karnstein in Styria, a duchy of Austria in 1680-”
> 
> [...]

“That I don’t what, **Mircalla**?”  
  
She says your given name and it shocks you to the core. Your throat goes dry, and although you are very certain that it should not be a bother to you, it feels like your undead heart is twisting and turning in that ribcage of yours.  
  
  
You are terrified.  
  
And you are a vampire.  
  
This alone is truly bothersome.  
  
  
“How…?”  
  
“LaF found a picture of you holding me as a baby. I could fill in the other blanks myself. Plus I did find the blood. And you signed your letter with M.K.”, she belts out and you seriously are considering running out on this conversation by disappearing into a plume of black smoke, but you refrain.  
  
You close your eyes and groan quietly. How do you get yourself untangled from this mess?  
  
“Were you even gonna tell me? About _you_? About _our_ history? About the fact that you probably have been following me around?”, this is too much to handle.  
  
She is seriously thinking that you have been following her, although she is the one that found you. The one, who caught your eye. The first, the second and this time. She is the one that has been bursting into your life every single time. She is the one that is responsible for all of this, and she doesn’t even know, because she isn’t aware of those first two times.  
  
  
“I have **not** been following you around. Laura that’s not-”  
  
“No. _Just no_. Even if you weren’t, you lied to me. Yesterday in the train, when I recognized you, you lied to me.”, her voice breaks and it strikes you as odd that she is more hurt than terrified.  
  
“I did not lie.”  
  
“You told me your name was Carmilla.”  
  
“That’s the name I go by now.”  
  
“The name you go by now.”, she scoffs, there is a sad smile on her face and you can’t place it.  
  
“Laura…”  
  
  
“Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”, she looks up and her expression breaks your heart.  
  
“Because the truth is so much more complicated for me, than just forgetting you ever existed.”  
  
Her brows furrow and she shrugs her shoulders, “So why offering me a tour through Paris then? If you were so keen on forgetting me? Whatever that even means.”  
  
“I thought I- I didn’t know what I thought okay? I just…”  
  
“You just left.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“You were my mom’s best friend and then you just left. She was so sad for a long time.” You cannot believe that _that’s_ what you two are talking about now.  
  
“I had to. I can’t have people knowing about me… I- Can I tell you everything? Can we talk about this? With you sitting down? And listening to me without interruptions, because there is so much I would like you to know.”  
  
She considers it for a moment, but then her shoulders sag and she nods. You are grateful for that.

 

* * *

  
“You were the one that got me out of that car?”, she has been crying for a while now.  
  
You had started at the very beginning, telling her about the first time you met, because for obvious reasons she does not remember and then you told her how you watched her grow older and how you absolutely adored her as a child, which in hindsight is a little odd, but she does not question you.  
  
She hasn’t questioned anything. Laura isn’t even that horrified to know that you are a vampire. What bothers her is the fact that you kept it a secret and you don’t know if you want to kiss her for it or scold her for it, because no one out of their right mind should think like her.  
  
“You were unconscious and Karen urged me to help you first so I did and then-”  
  
“Why were you there?”  
  
“I told you… I was back in the States and wanted to see your mother, but I couldn’t…”  
  
“No. Why did you follow us?”  
  
“Because I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”  
  
“Clearly you did a bang up job.”, you want to rip out your own heart for that statement.  
  
“There has not been a day I didn’t feel guilty for that.”, or all the other things you did after turning into a monster.  
  
“I’m sorry, that was-”  
  
“Don’t be.”, you stop her, “I’m a monster. I’m a monster, who has abilities out of this world and still I managed to take her away from you. If I had been faster or-”, you deflate, because you don’t know what you can say to make it amends. You simply can’t imagine the pain she must have been in. But then again, you have had your own heartbreaking moments to. This current one counting to one of them.  
  
  
“I don’t think you are a monster.”, her voice is so low, but your super hearing get’s it all.  
  
  
“And there we have your biggest weakness, Laura. You trust too easily.”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”, she is getting angry. _Good_ , you think.  
  
“I’m telling you that I’m a vampire and you are being upset about something so irrelevant!”  
  
It seems to take her by surprise, “First of all you **didn’t** tell me. And secondly… For me it’s not. This is relevant for me, because the things you just told me about my mom… Growing up not many families did interact with us. When my mom died, I didn’t have people coming over and telling me stories I didn’t know about. I mean, I wouldn’t have appreciated it back then anyway, but now- It’s relevant for me to know her from _your_ point of view. As an outsider. You knew her for some time. For the time I couldn’t really acknowledge her for what she was.”  
  
“I did. She loved you very much.”, your heart feels heavy in your chest. Vampires aren’t supposed to feel, but you do. You feel so much.  
  
So much that it eats you alive most of the time.  
  
  
There is a heavy silence filling the room, until she decides to speak up again.  
  
  
“Do you… I mean… Do you want to tell me about yourself?”, most of her tears have dried and she looks a little better now.  
  
You laugh at her bitterly, “What would you want to know about _me_?”  
  
“ _Everything._ ”  
  
The way she says it tugs on your undead heart. The way she reaches out her hand. It is like the very first time she did that, to capture yours. You let yourself revel in that memory.  
  
You don’t dare to touch her though. You sit there. Still and by yourself. Guarded. You sigh and give her what she wants.  
  
  
“I was born Mircalla, daughter of the Count Karnstein in Styria, a duchy of Austria in 1680-”  
  
“Styria? As in the state in Austria? LaF goes to Silas!”, she interjects and you frown at her, “Right sorry, go on!”  
  
“My family was wealthy, I had four siblings. We lived a happy life. There was a rich, baron wanting to marry me, when I was eighteen, but my dear father declined, because he had learnt that the baron was after my family’s land. Baron Vordenberg though was very angered and wanted to avenge my father’s doings. If he couldn’t have me, he thought, then no one should. So he killed me- Or at least he thought he did. Maman was there, she found my body on the street, where he discarded me like garbage. I must have had something, something she had sought for a while, so she resurrected me. Made me into this. I told you humans with special capabilities were given the key to immortality. My curse was my beauty.”, you don’t mean to be so conceited, but it is what she told you.

 

_My darling girl, it simply would have been of utter idiocy to waste such a pretty, pretty face._

  
  
“Oh my god… Murdered...?”  
  
“All too tragic, huh?”, you give her a small smile.  
  
You force yourself to it. You still can feel his dagger in your lower abdomen. That scar is still there. It is the thing that killed you.  
  
“Carmilla…”, her expression is pained.  
  
“What? Don’t you have a million questions right now?”, you try to lighten the situation. It is funny really, because you are trying to brighten your own mood.  
  
She smiles sheepishly, “Actually I do…”  
  
You nod and raise an eyebrow at her, to indicate her that she should go on.  
  
“How does that work? The transformation?”  
  
“I don’t know the exact procedure. It’s something only the head of the clan can perform. I just know that I found myself in a room, locked up and begging them to kill me, after I had learned what they did to me. Back then vampires were a common thing. Most people knew of their- _Our_ existence.”  
  
“How is it? I mean- Do you know the difference to being a human? Do you remember how it was like for you to be uhm- **Alive**?”  
  
“Of course.”, you look at her, calculating, before sitting next to her and capturing one of her hands, placing it delicately on your chest, “See? No heartbeat.”  
  
She has her eyes closed and her brows crease, as if she is trying to prove to you that there is one.  
  
“Then what you saw earlier… I heal very quickly. Vampiric constitution and all that.”, her eyes open again and she holds your gaze.  
  
“What about mirrors?”  
  
You chuckle, “I have a reflection. Would be messy, if I didn’t.”, you point at your eyebrows and she beams, really beams.  
  
How can she be smiling like that, when you’ve just revealed the most dismaying thing about yourself?  
  
She isn’t retracting her hand. She has it planted on your chest, not letting go of you. She isn’t scared.  
However you somehow want her to be terrified, because that would mean you don’t have to be frightened for yourself.  
  
  
“Hey, so technically you are a countess, right?”  
  
You have no idea whatsoever why she wants to know that, but you nod hesitantly. It makes her smile. It is odd, but you don’t question it.  
  
“I am as a matter of fact, yes. But the identity I knew before my demise is something I had to separate myself from.”  
  
It pains you to think about _them_ now. Every once in a while you do, but never like this.  
Laura makes you vulnerable. The first impression you had of her in that train was right.  
  
She is capable of breaking your undead heart, without doing much.  
  
  
“I’m sorry.”, the smile she is gifting you tears on your heartstrings.  
  
“Yeah. You should be. No one should be risen from the death. And no one should be around someone like me.”, you give her a pointed look.  
  
It takes her off guard. Her forehead creases. _Ever the good-hearted soul._  
  
  
“Do you really dislike it that much?”  
  
You can only scoff, “I don’t dislike it. I resent it. I hate myself, Laura. I loathe my whole entire species.”  
  
“But you- I mean… **You** are not a bad person. You saved me yesterday.”  
  
“Hardly. You would have been alright without me.”  
  
You don’t know that, but she has to stop depicting you as a hero, when all you are is corrupted. Something broken.  
  
_Something dead._  
  
And yet you feel so alive when she tells you that she still thinks you are a one of the most interesting and good-natured people she has met.  
  
  
Silence falls over your again and you want to run. You want to go and hide, away from this creature that cannot possibly be human. Because she is sitting there, as if you didn’t just shatter her world anew. The whole entire mankind despises your species -at least the part that knows of your existence. They don’t try to understand. Never have.  
  
But **her**. She is there, looking at you, her eyes trying to grasp the pain you have been through. And it is so, so precious. You don’t ever want to lose that feeling again, and simultaneously hate her for making you feel this way.  
  
You can’t feel. You don’t allow it. It is distasteful of you. And yet…  
  
  
“I don’t remember much… But I remember the Sunday afternoons in summer. When we would do barbecues. You’d always come over or my mom would take me to your place. And I would play with the squirrels in the garden. I’d try to catch them.”, she giggles, wallowing in memories. You go the lane with her.  
  
“You’d eat all the candy I had at my house.”, you remember with a fond smile.  
  
Your impeccable memory. Of course you remember everything about her. You have always loved her around.  
  
She frowns for a second, before looking you directly in the eye, “But you are a vampire. You don’t even eat candy.”  
  
“I always bought it for you.”  
  
The look she gives you makes your eyes water. She is so, so beautiful with her human values. You were wrong about her being spoilt. She is nothing but pure. Her beliefs still are pure, even though she had terrible things happening to her. Even though everything was taken away from her. There is so much love radiating from her.  
  
Suddenly she is sitting up on the heels of her feet, reaching forwards again, and taking your hand in hers. Her fingertips dance lightly along your palm, just where she cut you. She turns your hand to look at the ring decorating your middle finger. It is the only thing that survived throughout the years. It is your birth father’s ring.  
  
“It makes sense. And it suits you.”, she says a little absentmindedly, “ _Your Serene Highness_.”, she mocks with a deep voice and you shake your head, drawing back your hand. She seems a little sad about the loss of contact.  
  
“ _Gräfin Von Karnstein_ suffices completely.”, you say with an eye roll and she looks at your lips in confusion.  
  
“Say what now?”  
  
“That’s the original title in German. As you may know… Austrians do speak German.”  
  
“So you speak German too?”  
  
“It’s my mother tongue, yes. It would be tragic, if I didn’t, don’t you agree?”, you laugh and the look she gives you means she is awaiting for you to continue.  
  
It makes your heart swell up. And you both forget to eat.

 

* * *

   
“So now that you actually practically told me about your whole life… Can you tell me, what we are doing about the dead body?”  
  
“ **We?** ”, you raise an eyebrow at her from your position by the desk.  
  
“Or weren’t you gonna do anything about it?”  
  
“No I was…”, you have to, “But I was more worried about you saying that you were tagging along, cupcake.”  
  
“Uh, duh! Of course I am helping you with finding and dealing with the bad guy -uh girl or person, I guess.”  
  
“Really? You wanna find the vampire that’s responsible for that mess and help me rip out the heart of that imbecilic idiot?”  
  
Her eyes grow wide and she stands up from her position on the chaise lounge by your bookshelf.  
  
“This isn’t really what you’re gonna do, is it?”  
  
“Well of course I am. I’m a vampire.”  
  
She swallows thickly, but not because she is terrified of you. Why isn’t she scared of you? Frightened to death?  
  
“Oh come on. You can’t still be deluding yourself that I’m some bastion of nobility, just because I took you to my apartment yesterday.”  
  
“Well, I think it is noble to wanna help out a girl you barely know. Cause that’s what I was, even though you did know me forever ago. I am just a girl, fresh out of high school you actually don’t know at all.”  
  
  
You give her all your attention, because she has no idea. And you tell her.  
  
  
“You are so much more.”, there is a faint smile splaying on her lips and she looks down, blushing, “I have thought about you often, you know? You, your parents… Your mother was the personification of good. She was very dear to me. I thought about how you all were, how _you_ turned out. She did love you very much, I hope you are aware of that. And she raised you so well.”  
  
“It’s so weird hearing things like that from you, when just some hours ago I thought you were inter-”, she refrains from going further, but you want to know what she wanted to say, so you urge her.  
  
“When you thought…? What did you think?”  
  
“Nothing… Just that what you just said sounds like something my aunt would say to me. Not something someone in my age would say to me. Well you are clearly not my age, but you get what I mean, don’t you?”  
  
You sort of know, what she wants to imply, and you wish she would have said it out loud before. You thank her though at the same time that she didn’t.  
  
I thought you were…  
  
_Interested in me._  
  
_Interesting to me._  
  
You wonder which one it would have been. Or which answer would have made you more happy.  
  
  
“Can’t we do anything else though?”, she asks.  
  
You don’t follow, “What?”  
  
“About the vampire thing?”  
  
“My mother will decide what to do with the perpetrator. She has special rules for that.”  
  
“Is that who you wrote the letter to? Your mother?”  
  
Smart kid. You always knew.  
  
“Yes. Maman is the head of the clan. There are certain regulations for every vampire to follow, regardless of their family. So if one acts out, we have to eliminate them, or at least hold them captive until whatever problem there is, is solved. I suppose though that my mother will give me the order to annihilate the threat this time. Apparently the attacks have happened before. I overheard the policeman talking about a recurring animal bite.”  
  
“Do you always follow her orders?”  
  
“She resurrected me. She made sure that I had a place to stay, a family to support me in my travels through time. Even though we don’t agree on certain things, I owe many things to her.”  
  
“But you don’t even like being a vampire.”  
  
“I hate it with all my guts.”, you both lock eyes and there is something in her look, “But if she hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t have gotten to experience many things.”  
  
“So… What you are saying is totally contradicting.”, she bunches up her face and it is so adorable. You should get yourself locked up in a mental health institution.  
  
You are turning into a mess around her.  
  
  
“There isn’t always black and white Laura. Every thing has its perks, as well as its disbenefits.”  
  
“But then you should be able to understand why I’m doing this.”  
  
Laura approaches you and she never averts her gaze from yours.  
  
“Doing what?”, you ask hoarsely, because there is something. Something you can’t determine.  
  
“Being here. Not running, even though you are displaying yourself as pure evil. I know you. Even though you think I don’t. I’ve known you all my life, if you think about it that way. You were there. You played games with me, when I was little. You…”  
  
She is pulling out the necklace you gave her fifteen years ago out of under her shirt, “You cared. You aren’t as callous and indifferent, as you think you are. You cared. You cared for simple human beings, such as us.”  
  
And you have left your heart there, when you fled to Croatia. You know that you cared. You don’t need her to tell you.  
  
  
“I don’t know, if you remember this, but I never got rid of it-”, she says, clutching on the anchor necklace.  
  
“Of course I remember, Laura. That thing is the reason I recognised you in the first place.”  
  
Her facial expression changes into the one of contentment. You still don’t understand her. Why is she still here, talking to you?  
  
  
“Why wouldn’t you just tell me?”, she asks you again.  
  
Again those eyes. They could kill you. There you thought you had penetrating eyes. She does it so well. And she is human.  
  
“Because just a day ago I didn’t even know, _what_ you knew… Also when you told me about your father, I thought you’d hate me, if you knew, what I was.”  
  
“It’s ridiculous. If I were condemning you for something someone else did, wouldn’t that make me some sort of speciesist?”  
  
“I wouldn’t blame you, if you did.”  
  
She shakes her head and there is a noise of displeasure exiting her mouth.  
  
“Wait, was that guy a vampire too? The one that came by this morning?”  
  
“Yes he was.”  
  
“Oh.”, she frowns, “That kinda makes sense now… He was _super creepy_.”  
  
“Am I creepy to you too?”  
  
Her eyes widen and she looks at you fully, “No of course not, but that’s because you’re a girl- Woman- **Whatever.** ”  
  
“I assure you, you’d find my mother _creepy_.”  
  
You really do hope that this only stays an assumption. You never want those two to ever meet in real life.  
  
Only over your undead body will you ever let that happen.  
  
  
“Wait so, you said you had a brother. How does this work?”  
  
You tell her exactly how that works, how he was turned as a young soldier fighting for the Allies back in 1942. Your mother saw something in him. Just like she rescued you from death -at least that’s how she always put it- she saved him from dying of young age. He’d only been twenty, when three bullets had hit him in his chest. He always had been very grateful to mother for his second chance. He has always been such a momma’s boy. William never leaves her side, he is her right hand, except when it comes to things that need a little bit more decency.

 

* * *

  
She does get hungry at some point again. You decide to get something from delivery service. (Cooking didn’t go _that_ well.) This time your fridge will be filled with real takeout from the Chinese across some streets. You have ordered almost the entire menu, because she couldn’t decide, what she wanted.  
  
When the food is in front of you, all set on the dining table, you look at her expectantly.  
  
“Aren’t you gonna eat too?”, she asks you.  
  
“I don’t really benefit from…”, you trail off and hope she gets the message.  
  
Laura smacks her forehead, “Sorry, I forget. You can have some, you know?”, she licks her lips and it distracts you. For a while anyway, “I won’t get grossed out or anything… Um, if you drink blood in front of me, I mean.”  
  
  
  
So you sit across from her, sipping on the A+, while she is munching on a dumpling. She observes you, the way you set your lips on the glass, the way the red liquid flows down your throat. It’s as if she is contemplating on saying something and you make it easier for her.  
  
“Is it revolting for you now?”  
  
Laura shakes her head immediately, “No, I just was wondering where you get that from.”  
  
“I have friends that get the supplies at the local blood bank.”  
  
“Does it taste the same? I mean as fresh blood from a human? I guess you didn’t really have blood banks back in 16-something?”  
  
“It’s very different. Sodium citrate is being added to the blood, so it doesn’t get clumpy. And it’s not whole-blood either. What I am drinking now is red cell concentrate. Also it is cold. Drinking warm blood off a human is much more pleasuring. It’s like comparing a five star meal to a cheeseburger you can get at those hideous fast food places.”  
  
  
She is squinting her eyes, “Do you…?”  
  
“Do I what?”  
  
“Feed off a human sometimes?”  
  
This is a question you rather not answer, “Sometimes. Of course only from volunteers.”  
  
“Oh… So there are people that know?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And they do that willingly? Doesn’t it hurt?”  
  
Another question you don’t like to answer. Especially with her you don’t want to discuss these things. You don’t know why.  
  
“It’s a very enticing experience. There are some perks of being a somewhat supernatural being. I as a predator have certain abilities to make it feel…”, you have her full attention, “ **Good.** ”  
  
“Oh.”, she blushes a little and you can’t really determine why.  
  
  
“Tell you what.”, she has recovered very quickly and is now on full-on-blabbering-mode and it is alarming how much you enjoy her company. You could listen to her all day. “Now that we kinda did all that bonding over my mom and stuff.”, the way she says it aches a little, because she is trying to be nonchalant about it, but you know her fairly well for the short amount of time you’ve been with her now, “I wanna help you. I wanna help you find that vampire that killed that poor man.”  
  
“Why?”, it is a simple question. You don’t understand why she wants to get in the midst of all of this.  
  
“Because you are going to help me interrogate him.”  
  
“What?”, you can’t believe what she wants from you.  
  
“I wanna know Carmilla. I wanna know what motives someone has to be so cruel. Maybe I can understand the death of my father better after that. I mean, there has to be something, right? There has to be a reason behind all of this callousness right?”  
  
You groan loudly, “I told you Laura. We are monsters. We don’t have motives. We just kill. For pleasure.”, she flinches.  
  
“Do you do it too?”, for the first time you sense fear on her and this is the first time you don’t want her to be scared of you.  
  
“No. I don’t. I have though. I wasn’t always like this. In my first few decades I was a cruel killer. I was so enraged all the time. I felt alone and helpless. [_The Mad Master_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lewis_Hutchinson) was nothing compared to me. I learned to control myself fully throughout my years on this world and through help from maman. Also back in the days the knowledge of the existence of vampires wasn’t really an uncommon thing. There were several gruesome killings performed by humans to exterminate our species, so we had to be more careful. In the mid seventeen-hundreds _[Gerard van Swieten](http://www.habsburger.net/en/persons/person/gerard-van-swieten) _ was persuaded by Maman -we were residing in Bohemia by that time- that there were no such things as vampires. The archduchess _[Maria Theresia of Austria](http://www.habsburger.net/en/chapter/maria-theresa-heiress)_ then spread the word about us being a myth. Of course there were several others that stated the same, so after that I gradually had to learn to live with myself and with that came all the guilt and then I couldn’t do it anymore.”  
  
“See? You did learn from it. Maybe if we held the person responsible for this mess captive, and did talk some sense to them-”  
  
“Laura no! I told you that I had to follow my mother’s orders and if she orders me to kill this guy then I will do it.”  
  
“Wait a second, you know it was a guy?”  
  
“The bite marks were very afar from each other. It is very unlikely a vampire of female form. Although I could be mistaken, but women aren’t usually messy eaters.”  
  
  
“Okay… But my other request still stays. I want to talk to him. I want you to find him with me and then I want to talk to him.”  
  
  
You can’t really believe yourself when you grumble a _‘Fine.’_ to her and chug away the rest of your blood. She smiles at you with her tongue caught in-between her teeth and you roll your eyes at her.  You can feel the smile on your face, you can’t believe, how she has you tied around her little finger.  
  
You would do anything for her.  
  
The thought scares you and you hope that it is worth it.  
  
  
“As long as you stay here with me and I can keep an eye out for you.”  
  
“I’ll do what you want. I just… Before I go back to Austria, I want to do that. I could totally hack into the police-”  
  
“Hold on sweetheart. My mother has her lackeys strewn around all over Paris. I reported to her and I believe she will contact me shortly and tell me where exactly to find our little problem child. We just have to wait it out a little. Word spreads fast. There has to be someone, who has met him.”  
  
“It’s settled then. We’ll collaborate. We’ll find out who the killer is… And you’ll let me interrogate him.”  
  
  
What have you gotten yourself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very plot-/history-driven fic. Therefore editing time and reading into some stuff is essential, I like to stay on fact.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not know how to use it, but still: [my tumblr.](http://angstfreehuman.tumblr.com/)


End file.
